Metroid: Smut
by Insomniac By Choice
Summary: Sex is good, and people should be happy.
1. Samus Aran X

The 10th bell of the day reverberated throughout the makeshift Chozo monastery, and Samus Aran felt saved by it.

"Tomorrow, we will further discuss those pebbles of the path to enlightenment," said the black, giant humanoid bird in the center of the room, ringed by 11 more, slightly smaller Chozo – and one pale Human girl. "Hopefully tomorrow the One Who Was Foretold will be able to share with us some wisdom on the nature of contentment and desire," Full Wing said as Samus rose from the meditative crouch, bringing her head up to the shoulders of her still-seated Clutchmates.

She nodded sheepishly, and fled the stonecraft room with as much haste as appeared dignified and not to be fleeing. As she passed a window, the dim red glow of a dying sun hovered in the corner of her eye and she felt comforted with the reminder that in a million years, they'd all be dead.

In the immediate future, the schedule allotted the next half-hour to cleansing the mind and spirit, reflected symbolically in the ritual bathing the Chozo enjoyed so much. The "doctrine of tripartite purity," and if keeping one's mind and spirit clean weren't hard enough, Chozo considered nudity taboos shallow and barbaric, so the martial exercises designed purely for her left her filthier and more needing of physical cleansing than her fellows.

Samus felt a corner of her mouth tug upward, but suppressed it. Her beaked saviors disapproved of oral expressiveness as "unbecoming" and after four cycles in their protection, she could feel the reflex draining out of her. To her benefit, she supposed.

She did legitimately enjoy the baths, of course. It was the only time she wasn't being questioned, measured or watched. So many classes, special sessions, exercises. Even at night, she had to sleep in the nest with the rest of her Clutch. Even in her powered suit, always someone was in her ear, counseling, chiding, occasionally applauding. But then, there was _another_ reason she enjoyed washing herself.

Reaching the bathing corridor, Samus went to one room modified to fit her scale and got into the tub. The first and last baths of the day were communal, but all the rest left her to herself. She spread her arms and legs to the sides and felt the water flow out to meet her, warm and welcoming as the softest bedsheet. She sighed and let her arms float free on top of the rising water, enjoying the sensation as part of her forearm broke the plane of the water's surface while the rest stayed below. The otherwise imperceptible currents of air cooled as it brushed against her dampened skin while what was fully submerged was surrounded with warmth.

Not for the first time she wondered if her caretakers' disdain of all things mammalian was justified, especially as of late when she had so many more places to keep shorn of wretched fur. The tickle of wind brushing the ends of her surviving fine hairs was like paradise, so perhaps they showed wisdom in limitation as she was able to focus even more on the tactile delight.

She sent her right arm fully below the water to feel her belly, taking pleasure in its unflexed softness while she could truly relax. Her left arm came up to her nipples and the hard muscle of her chest that lately had been growing flabby no matter how much she trained. But her fingers loved her breasts and in turn they loved her fingers, and the sensation, though unequal, was mutually enjoyed. Rising out of the water enough for the cool air to meet her damp chest, she felt the dark mammary circles grow out and stiff, and her breath drew short as each time she traced her fingers over herself, a faint jolt of goodness shot from one point on her flesh to all the rest.

She let the hand below the water go lower, but only teased the part that wanted most for touch as the hand went farther, to her right thigh, and squeezed. She bent her left leg just enough to bring her knee up to the surface and her other hand departed from her chest to stroke the knee and finally in turn its thigh. Under the water, her hands joined at the thighs' mutual termination and began in earnest to call upon the divine wave to crash upon her.

The lusty organ of yen between her legs already had gorged itself on the tantalizing yet felt, and now engorged she could no longer limit herself to teasing; from now on, it would tease her as she ached for the Long Great Moment to arrive.

Samus closed her eyes and continued to rub between her legs with her left hand while her right made amends to other, neglected portions of her body.

Fingers together, she held her right hand directly above her smooth head and let water drip and run down, first this side of her skull, then another, then another. The joy of the unexpected and uncontrollable.

She exhaled deeply and breathing in could swear she was tasting the universe on her lips, its mysteries on her tongue. The Great Masters instructed the Fledglings like herself to use the ritual bathing for meditation and prayer. Well, there was more spirit in her than all of their rituals, in one small moan than all their songs. There was more unity in this moment with herself than peace with all other living things.

But she _was _alone; thoughts of her mastery over her own pleasure were spoiled once again by the desire that someone else might desire to cause it in her also. Someone whom she couldn't control but might surprise and even control her.

There was another Fledgling, smaller than the rest but still half again taller than herself. Kune was sweet and kind toward her, though like the rest, he hardly seemed to notice except when the Great Masters were pointing out something she'd done wrong or not fully.

But his hands were _soft_. She had felt them on her shoulders once when he'd approached her as she'd stood in the communal bath as the others sat. She'd been looking out a window at a wide expanse, thinking of days gone by and wondering if the present surpassed the past or were all the same. Perhaps her face hadn't been properly impassive, but he had seen her, called her Clutchmate, asked her how she was feeling that day and seemed to have been genuinely interested, though she couldn't bring herself to tell him.

She had seen him labor at one of his "minor works," a prayer book written onto a single feather, a verse on each barb. It had taken him 100 cycles and apparently, he'd made no errors. Kune's fingers were delicate and masterful, sure and strong.

She thought again of the day in the bath when Kune had come up to her but _this_ time in her imagination there was no one but the two of them together and he moved one hand to the nape of her neck and the other spread her legs apart…

She heard herself moan in delight and became worried perhaps it was too loud and someone walking nearby might have heard. Then she began to worry that her worry had distracted her too much and the divine wave would require more supplication than she had time for now.

But no, there it was in her toes, there in her lungs the breath that felt as though she'd been running for an hour, there the heat burning her skin so she marveled that the bath water didn't boil.

And, ah, there it was.

Her head snapped back and her mouth opened – first requiring her to fight not to shout and immediately after, her jaw left agape so she couldn't even force out a whisper. Her fingers didn't dare venture to what was now a rod sparking with electric ecstasy. But she dared them to, and where before she'd almost worn her shoulder out applying force, now the slightest touch felt so intense it almost hurt her with rapture, beautiful agony, little death.

"Samus, are you hurt?"

In the afterglow of it, blood still filling her ears, she was sure no one had actually said anything, and what she'd heard had been no more than delusion. But this was a product of wishful thinking more than anything. She opened her eyes and turned her head to see him rushing toward her.

"Samus?" Old Bird asked her again, now looming three meters over her at her side. "My Egg, are you ill or suffering?"

"I'm—I'm fine, Father," she replied, quickly pulling herself up and out of the water. It seemed inherently stained in some way and once out of the tub, she pressed the command to send away the bath. As she watched the water swirl away all too slowly, she began to consider the possibility that her salvation and subsequent adoption the day her pirates raided her colony had not in fact been a blessing and she might have been better off perishing with her parents and the rest.

And though she tried to turn away the conversation to something else, still her new father pressed on and in desperation she told the half-truth that for her, this was surely the path to enlightenment, or felt so. Always, he had interpreted the prophecy this way, that the salvation she might bring the galaxy was the peace of spiritual unity among all things. He was not in especially significant company in this interpretation.

Understanding the premise of her ruse or perhaps misunderstanding it, Old Bird expressed elation and called for an emergency meeting of the Old Masters. Then Samus was sure she would rather have died than still be alive to endure this.

The Masters questioned her, and she answered as best she could, feeling their disdain for her as keenly as she felt the embarrassment she continued to heap on Old Bird. But they didn't understand really what she did, as shown by their request for her to demonstrate, for their benefit, the technique that had brought her such rapture and understanding.

Samus said she would need the bath, and Long Beak suggested they rejoin with her to her bath. Then she admitted she was still too inexperienced in the method and didn't think she could replicate it for them with them in the same room, huddled around her so; her spiritual mind did not have such resilience yet. They said they understood and would try to think of something, in deference to Old Bird's prior reputation if nothing else. She was allowed to leave while he stayed behind, and she didn't want to imagine the conversation he had with the Masters without her.

The next day, Samus went to her small bath, relieved to see no crowd of elders huddled around it waiting for her as she'd half expected. Praise the Lord of Hope – they would allow her privacy again. The worry that they might try to sneak a glance from around the entry or observe her surreptitiously was quelled by her knowledge of Chozo character. They were brilliant, but they were also austere and blunt and had no interest in deception.

She turned on the water and stepped into it, then sat and stretched out as the warm water rose to cover her. Not today but someday soon she would be able to sing the song of herself again, unmolested.

She tilted back her head, eyes closed, and sighed. Life would be endurable again, rather than just enduring.

She opened her eyes and it took a moment to realize what was hanging above her. Then she closed her eyes and sank deep until she was completely submerged.

Above her, the hologram recorder beeped and waited.


	2. Of Gold

_Episode 2: Of Gold_  
_Set between Episodes 7 and 8 of 'See You Next Mission' co-created with Kefka Floyd._

* * *

The bountiful bouncy busty train of women came looping down the golden spiral staircase, all giggly and coyly dressed for the small, hungry crowd of high-ranking Dead Red gangsters waiting, whooping, for the ladies' exposed but not quite fully naked flesh.

"Look at the titties on that one!" a Human lieutenant observed, elbowing another Red and grinning broadly. The underboss's eyes followed the lieutenant's finger to the olive-skinned, black-haired, blue-eyed lass and smirked before redirecting the arm to another of the choices: freckled, red-haired, of light-complexion — and quite young.

"Ah, there's what you want to take home with you," underboss Noni Graff said. "A little chickling like that will fuck like a champion. You have to know what's what."

Onip Alou, the lieutenant, laughed and wisely agreed with his superior.

"If she's old enough to set the table, she's old enough to come to dinner!" Alou concurred, but didn't give up his case for the virtues of the rare colonial phenotype.

There were eight Dead Red leaders of some importance choosing from among 20 varied representations of the Human and humanoid form. Not all of them had vaginas or even organs resembling vaginas, but then not every Dead Red necessarily wanted pussy. Some of them wanted _everything but_, and an establishment that could provide everything was a valued business indeed.

At the back of the room, near the doors and not at all approaching or showing interest in the procession of the staircase, was a giant in a red and gold powered exoskeleton, providing security, supposedly, for one of the officers busily lusting on his myriad choices — for these 20 were really just the beginning of what the casino-brothel had to offer.

The contracted bounty hunter did his best to be part of the scenery, but that wasn't in any way possible, and underboss Graff soon stopped his appraisals to include the hunter and try get him out of his shell – as it were.

"Samus Aran! Get up here," Graff said, already long drunk but not so drunk as to forget to be properly generous. "Pick you out one for you. It's gonna be a long night yet and you're to be part of it."

The bounty hunter shifted awkwardly in his suit, then answered in an even, mechanical voice.

"I have been contracted to protect you, Mr. Graff," Samus answered. "And if it's all the same to you, I think I'd do a better job of that in my suit and patrolling this establishment than exploring the contours and naked skin of these… fine ladies."

"It _isn't _all the same to me, and just because no one has seen you out of your powered suit don't mean you can't let your pecker out a moment to get it wet. That's your job tonight, you hear?" Graff said. "Your contract officially was to be in my service for 48 hours, and this is what I say serves me, _or you get nothing_. So, you get first dibs here, and either you'll pick or I will for you." Graff pulled on Samus' helmet toward him, and Aran complied to bring his head down level for Graff. "Now," the underboss whispered, "if you prefer something less standard or sapien, just let me know and we can go find something better for you in quiet. Eh?"

Samus coughed, or seemed to.

"No. No that's all right." He pointed with the left hand — the other was covered in a forearm-length energy cannon — toward one of the girls midway up the stairs. "That one: the blonde one with green eyes. I'll have her."

With many bashful beats of her eyelashes and several smirking grins, the young woman in question strode the rest of the way down to the floor, only occasionally glancing up and never uncrossing her hands from behind her back. But if her throat seemed to tremble slightly at the sight of the weaponized armor, her ankles never did, despite the high heels, and soon Samus Aran was being pulled by hand toward one of the many ecstasy chambers in the hotel.

Though looking back down the hallway at the remaining pack of Dead Reds for any salvation in restraint, there was only fraternal, bacchanalian encouragement and soon the lithe little thing whose hands could barely wrap around the bounty hunter's thumb had yanked him through the small door and into the sterile white bedded room beyond.

* * *

Dressed only in a sheer silvery negligee with dark maroon undergarments beneath and simple chain gold necklace on top, the young woman released her grasp after getting the armored bounty hunter inside and slunk away from him, never letting her eyes leave his visor or a pouty, bit-lower-lip expression leave her face. The door shut behind, closing them in.

"Ooh, Daddy, the thought of you naked and sweaty under that metal just gets me _so-oh_ hot," she said, slipping off one shoulder strap, then the other as her negligee fell to the floor. She kicked it off of her feet, along with her shoes. "I've never done it with a space hunter before."

"I- listen, you don't need to do any—" Samus started to say, but the woman walked up in front of him and wrapped herself around the leg of his cold metal shell. She held a finger up to the lower part of his helmet, shushing him. "Mmm, I just want you _so bad_." She started to lick his abdomen then stood on her toes until her tongue could reach his chestplate. "God, your armor just gets me so fucking horny. I think I could cum just rubbing against your leg." She proceeded to seem to try; the necklace clinked against the armor.

Samus finally pushed her away, keeping her literally at arm's length, then spoke, although the girl realized he wasn't addressing her.

"Turn the sensors off," Aran said. "All of them. Every viddy, audie and spatial recorder. I want them off, and I want them off now. Yes, you on the eighth floor. Yes, you, the Malakian with the stud in your right ear, with the small tattoo of a woman's name on your belly; you who just ate cephalopod soup for lunch. I mean _you_, and if _you_ don't do as I say in the next 30 seconds, I will find my way up to you and make you an Ouroboros with your own intestines."

The bounty hunter had been staring at a particular place in the ceiling and now pointed for the last bit. Meanwhile, in the surveillance control room, an earringed Malakian with a discreet tattoo who had indeed had had a bit of squid a few hours before squirmed in his seat as he waited for his superior to arrive and give him the OK to turn off all of the cameras, microphones and scanners in room 3B8.

Meanwhile, Samus was counting down. He stopped at nine.

"There we are. Now, if you would be so kind, please—" he turned to refocus on the woman, "please dress yourself again," he stammered to finish as she now wore only the necklace and a smile. He turned his head away again.

"What's the matter, baby?" she asked, sincerely confused before continuing with a coquettish grin. "Don't tell me I'm showing you something you've never seen before."

"Nothing I haven't seen thousands of times before," Samus said, somehow sounding neither boastful or sarcastic. "I'm just not into …" his left hand's gesture included everything from her thighs to her clavicles, "all _this_."

The blonde girl giggled, and started pulling her panties up.

"Daddy, I don't know _what_ you're into, but as long as it isn't too weird, you've got me for at least the next hour, and sauced as your boss is, you could probably stretch that into four, easy. Especially with the cameras off," she added, re-clasping her bra. "So what's the plan?"

Samus turned back to look at her. "May we start with your name?"

"Daisy," she said sheepishly, digging a toe into the carpet. "Daisy Lee."

"No," the bounty hunter said. "Your real name. That is," he hesitated, "if it's not too personal."

The grin dropped from her face as her nose scrunched on one side, seeming now 10 years older. An edge came to her voice.

"Oooh, so you're one of _those," _she said. "Look, I do a lot of kinky stuff, and a lot of shit I'm not proud of, but one thing I do _not_ do is let myself be psychoanalyzed by the kind of freak who wants to get to know me and hear about my problems. So, _no_, you _don't_ get to know my name, and _no_ you don't get to spend any more time in here. _Scat_."

"What? Please, I apologize. I didn't mean-"

"Just what is _your_ real name, huh? Why are you even here? Just what are you?"

"I'm- I'm sorry. Sorry: that is what I am. Please, I do not want to offend you. I just cannot leave my suit around you. Around anyone," he added, looking as pitiful as a two-and-a-half meter weaponized exoskeleton could. "And, I didn't ask for this, and I know you didn't either, so I apologize for choosing you. I have never enjoyed the pleasures of a cathouse before or wanted to. Still do not. You just looked like- like someone I could talk to. That's all." He seemed to be searching for something else to say. "Please don't make me go back to them," he said.

Her face softened. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Fine. You don't have to leave. But, if you want me to tell you my name, come to bed with me, at least. I want to lie down."

Samus looked at her, then at the bed a moment, then back at her.

"I'm not sure, entirely, that the bed will hold me."

"I am sure that neither of us will have to pay for it, so I don't really care. Come on."

She took hold of his cannon, and dragged him again, this time just reassuringly, rather than suggesting fleshy rewards. They got on the bed together; he first then she lying on his left side, and it sagged under the weight but held. She put a pillow on his left shoulder and put her head on it, lying on her side.

"My name is Lena," she whispered, leaning up slightly. The imprint of red lipstick lips appeared on Samus' visor. "Now, tell me about yourself."

* * *

For the first hour, Samus told bounty hunting stories – embarrassing stories, surprising stories, laugh out loud stories of anticlimax and failure. Lena noticed that Samus always skipped over the parts that other bounty hunters and soldiers most embellished.

It wasn't single-handedly wiping out half of a safehouse that Samus cared to relate; Lena had to drag that out of him by numerous clarifications. What he wanted to talk about was how stupid he'd been to go through the front door and have to fight through twice as many people when he could have just jumped up to the third floor.

It wasn't that he saved his boss from being assassinated, first by a sniper and then by a knife; it was that the sniper was a junkie going through withdrawals and couldn't have hit her target if she'd tried, and that the would-be knife-ist had actually tried to stab Samus when he'd stopped the guy. (The knife broke, then Samus broke the man's hand.)

And it was that Samus had once had to chase and catch a cat to earn his bread, or more precisely, Yemen Insta-Noodles.

"I seriously considered enduring starvation at that point, you know," he concluded, he — whose powered suit was superior to all others he met, who could see through walls, see into the brain to see which portions were active when — he not-so-long ago had been unable to afford anything but the cheapest, least palatable of foods. And admitted it.

"You've talked a lot about what you do, but nothing of who you are," Lena said. "I get the impression that was intentional."

"Now who's psychoanalyzing?"

"Fair enough."

"I can't promise to fully reciprocate, but I would like to hear about your life, and how you got to be here."

Lena laughed.

"How I ended up a whore, you mean?"

"In part. I'm more interested in how you got away from home. You are beautiful, clever, and self-assured, and were you my sister I'd be glad to claim you as family. However — and I mean no insult, because you hide it well — I detect… provincialism? In your speech."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. And this makes you even more of a curiosity."

"Aw shucks," she drawled. "I come from a little humid mining planet in the Outer Rim, is all. I'm too embarrassed to say otherwise."

"Why?"

"It's not so terrible a place to be from, but to still be there? And anyone from it is almost always still there. My parents and all my older brothers, all the rest of my family, too."

"Then what made you leave? How did you get away?"

"I don't know." Her fingers played with her gold chain. "Or I guess I do. It was the idea of being trapped there."

"And yet you brought a piece of home with you," Samus observed.

"What?"

"The necklace. It's gold, but that isn't so valuable. And it's plain. If you wanted to adorn yourself with a piece of spectacular jewelry, you could afford better, or better-looking. But instead you have just a chain of gold around your neck, and obviously favor it, in spite of yourself. It's from your home, an heirloom of some sort, isn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Samus."

"I apologize. How did you avoid the trap of home?"

"Well, I always enjoyed sex; probably I started too young. It was fun and dangerous, and no one I knew could keep up with me. But in the back of my mind, it was always there: Get pregnant, get hitched, get stuck. And I didn't want to."

"Yes."

"So I took to hooking; got enough to get off surface and to the orbital platform. I must've been 15, 16. No." Lena's face scrunched with the concentration of attempted recall. "Or maybe that's right. I worked on my own at first, but after a few months, I fell in with some other girls and their pimp. I didn't like it, but I did well enough to move on, go farther. Stayed clean. Mostly. I tried not to stay any place longer than a year. I got picked up for a gangster's birthday some months back, and here I am."

"You could do better than this," Samus said, sounding slightly sad.

"Oh? And be a bounty hunter like you, maybe? Give people the big death instead of the little?"

"I don't kill for the Reds. I told you that."

"Right. You just said you made it easy for your bosses to kill them."

"Not anyone who didn't have it coming to them already."

"Oh!" Lena exclaimed. "Of course. I apologize. The degenerate gamblers and thieves, scourges of the universe. I'm sure they all deserved exactly what they got." This time Samus stayed silent, and Lena went on. "Think what you will about me. I bring this on myself, but at least I make people happy, briefly, not hurt them. Even the ones who don't deserve it. If the worst thing I have to do is stick a cock in an uncomfortable place or swallow something bitter, hey, there's worse sorts of whores. And people."

"Yes," Samus said. "You're right. You're right, but always I have been told to do the right thing, the proper perfect thing, and I had no choice in it. Now I do. And I don't like it, even a little, but for the first time, at least it's my choice. Not what was Chosen for me."

"You have a powered suit and that can see everything and apparently blow up anything," Lena asked. "Why do you let anyone choose anything for you?"

"It was my understanding for the longest time that I had no choice in anything. That fate had decided all for me long ago," Samus said. "The realization otherwise takes some getting used to."

"You chose me on your own didn't you?"

"Yes. But mainly because you looked familiar," Samus said. She wondered if he was joking or really meant it. "I really like your hair," he said, and the conversation died down for a while as his metal fingers deftly twirled it between them. "You'd have made a really good big sister."

Lena laughed. There it was again.

"So, where are you from Samus?" she asked, and was somewhat surprised to get an answer.

"A tiny, dusty, out of the way place. The sort you wouldn't miss. At least, I've yet to meet someone who has."

"Even you?"

He waited a long while, then spoke carefully.

"I am not sure what I remember enough to miss, except that it was home."

"What was it called?"

"I-" He stopped. "You wouldn't have heard of it."

"Ever bother to turn that lie detector on yourself?" Lena sat up slightly. "You know everything about me. Did you want to have a conversation or not?"

"Yes. Here." He turned his left palm down and a green icon on the back of his armored hand glowed then projected an image above them on the bed. "I don't mean to disparage your intelligence, but I imagine your astronomy isn't perfectly comprehensive. Allow me a bit of mystery, if you don't mind."

The emerald image showed the standard Galactic Federation hologram, with the Central Planets and the cathouse's Outer Rim platform labeled. In red, another planet, far on the other side of the Rim, lit up and the image began to zoom quickly to it.

"Wow, that's pretty close to Pirate space," Lena marveled.

Something that could have been a laugh escaped from Samus.

"Indeed."

Coming in on the local solar system, the image turned to true color. When it finally settled on one planet in particular, dirt brown and rust red, a yellow sun was left in view behind it as it rotated.

"For years, _no one_ had any good reason to want to be there. Then one day when I was young, they found some mineral or ore that was valuable, or potentially so. The pirates came and burned everything to the ground." He stopped, remembering something. "That's right, the ore was some sort of fuel, and they set that on fire, too. The smoke from the mines blotted out the sun. And, did I read recently that there are veins still burning underground…? Oh well. They're dreadfully thorough, Space Pirates. But not thorough enough. I got away; I found the stars, and my home."

He stopped, and Lena realized he'd forgotten about her temporarily.

"One day I'll find the Pirates, and I'll burn them all till they have not even ashes to gather or spread. And that will be joy above all things."

A question came to Lena's mind, naturally, although it felt like a non sequitur as she asked it.

"Samus, don't you enjoy sex?"

"Of course," he answered, a bit too quickly. "I just, I think that it's, well, dirty. I do not know how to explain it. It is not desirable. For me."

"Samus, this is my job. This is work. But sex with someone you love is still great. Dirty, sometimes filthy when you're doing it right, but great. Even with just yourself it can be wonderful."

Samus fidgeted.

"You… do _that_?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just disgusting. All of that mucus and skin. And then finally you lose complete control of yourself." Lena arched an eyebrow. Apparently Samus noticed because he went on. "It's not dignified. It's not— it isn't _that_ good."

"Dignified," Lena repeated. Now she felt a naughty smile spreading out her lips, and one of her hands unfurled from around Samus' arm to reach next to the bed for a smooth, silver cylinder. She found it.

"What is—" Samus stopped. Lena thought she could hear the suit scanning, thinking. She flicked a button at the base and the tip began to hum with almost imperceptibly swift movement. She slipped her panties down her thighs and knees till they hung loosely around her ankles.

"Oh," he said.

She smiled and breathed hot air on the metal tip.

"It's like you, see?" she whispered, breathlessly, this time unable to help herself. Even so, she thought she saw Samus give a short, subtle nod, and she grinned a split second before hiding it again. Lena took the tip of the rod deep into her mouth till it was slick, then pulled it out again and used it to nudge her bra's cups off each breast. Wet, still faintly cold, her nipples perked up, and she teased the skin around one, then the other.

"Lena, I—"

"Samus," Lena moaned, but playfully. "Oh Samus."

He didn't interrupt again.

She took the humming cylinder and pressed it against Samus' abdomen with the result of a rapid clang of metal on metal.

"That's no good at all," Lena murmured. "Hmm. Where can we find a better place for it?"

Taking it back to herself, she slowly slipped the rod down to her genitals, past the well-groomed patch of hair, past the budding organ that wasn't quite ready to come out, to the folds of skin, already starting to lubricate for the coming lathe. She slid the rod over, up and down on the outside, occasionally coming back to the bud, which increasingly was becoming receptive to the sensation.

For Samus' benefit, more than her own, Lena put the rod inside herself and pushed it in and out, moaning softly somewhat out of habit, but being sure not to produce the insincere sounds she was sure Samus would notice and not appreciate. The rules were different with this one.

After a little while, she took out the cylinder and replaced it with two fingers, rubbing the metal against her bud, now beginning to grow and bloom. In the synchronized rhythm of a pulse, her curled fingers squeezed deep inside her while she rubbed the vibrating rod around her clit, building the pressure of pleasure as it came in waves, stronger and stronger until—

"Ohhh-ooh mmmm," she said, as her thighs squeezed together tightly and her eyes closed tightly, but saw nothing but light. She sighed, and her lungs continued to try to fill themselves with enough air, but never were quite able to. Her fingers continued to brush over herself, but lightly. Chills of desire satisfied shot through the rest of her, and she sighed again, and smiled.

Samus was quiet, but Lena thought she could feel his attention intently on her. She felt his great weight shifting. He removed his arm from under her pillow, and as she opened her eyes, she saw the armored fingers hovering over her eyes.

"May I?" he asked.

" 'May you,' what?"

But already she heard something new humming, and as she turned off her vibrating rod she continued to hear it, until finally she looked closely enough at the fingers to see the blur of them. Her first impulse was to protest, but then she remembered how gentle he'd been twirling her hair using those same fingers.

"OK," she said. "But hold on."

Lena took the pillow out from under her head and pushed on Samus' chest until he was back on his back. She put the pillow on his stomach then got on top of him. She kicked the panties the last way off of her feet.

"Sure you don't want to slip _any_ part of you out of that suit?"

"I am sure," he said.

"Then mind if I warm those fingers up before they get near me?"

"Allow me," Samus said, and she heard the blaster on his arm begin charging, and he put his armored hand near it. "Here," he said, holding his palm out. She touched it, and it felt now as if his exoskeleton were a skin, and he had a fever. She nodded, and he placed his hand on her belly. The fingers began to hum again, and he tested it by placing his thumb on her belly button.

"My hand is on the same frequency as your toy," he explained. "Please tell me if you'd like it faster or slower, but I will do my best to anticipate you."

Before she could respond, the hand got to its business, all five fingers working together and independently, inside and without. Each digit was proportioned for a giant, so only the middle one was filling her, but the rest lay against the labia, gently massaging them open and closed. However, the thumb was the star of the show, and the bud, which had closed again, was quickly opening again.

"Oh my God," Lena said. "Ohhh God." Her body was rocking back and forth, and she felt herself losing her balance forward. Samus sat up slowly and lifted his arm cannon until it was close enough for her to brace herself against it. She smiled, then bit her lower lip and grimaced with delectation.

The humming fingers and thumb were everywhere she needed them to be, in just the right place she needed them to be. As soon as one moved away from where it should have been, it returned and felt even better. And the thumb. Christ, the thumb.

"Right there," Lena said. "Whatever you do, please don't stop."

"I won't," Lena heard Samus say, but there was a subtle change in the voice now.

She was distracted for a moment; Samus sounded a bit like her all of a sudden, but then the sensation between her legs took up the full portion of her mind again, and she could feel the culminating feeling nearby her. She wrapped her arms around the cannon, hugging it.

"You are truly beautiful," Samus said, still sounding quite girlish.

"I—" Lena couldn't remember what she was going to say, because she came, and it slammed into her with greater force than usual, racking her body completely with ecstasy. She squealed and her back arched as every muscle seemed to tense in celebration. The finger inside her continued to vibrate, but the thumb was now just occasionally rubbing her specialized bundle of nerve endings, and even that was almost too much.

"Samus, please!" Lena whispered her plea, but already he'd slipped his hand away from her crotch, grabbing her another pillow to lay on his chest. At the same time, Lena's hands let go of the cannon she'd used to support herself, and she fell on top, with her face just under his helmet.

"Would you like another?" Samus asked, having switched to a teenage girl's voice, apparently.

"I don't think," Lena said, catching her breath, "I could take another one like that." Her legs continued to shake as echoes of the orgasm continued to rush through her body occasionally. "My God, that was amazing. _You're_ amazing."

"Thank you," he said, and she lay on him a while with no sounds but her breathing filling the room.

"Jesus," she said. "I'm soaked in sweat and everything."

"I am definitely going to take a _very_ long bath when I get back to my ship."

Eyes still closed, she traced small circles on Samus' armor with her finger.

"What does your real voice sound like?" Lena asked. "You're using a girl's voice now. Before that, it was a vocoder."

"I am still trying to find that out," Samus answered, lapsing back into the vocoder voice. "I've never been with anyone else like this, Lena."

Lena giggled. "I haven't been with anyone _like this_ before either. But I know what you meant," she added softly. "Next time you visit you'll have to try getting out of your suit and seeing what I feel like for real."

"Maybe," he said.

"You will." She slipped the chain off of her neck. "You've got to learn how to live a little."

When he appeared the next day, Samus' visor still had red lipstick, and a gold chain clung tight, clasped to the armored neck.


End file.
